


Reflex

by apple_pi



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen, Pre-Quest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-26
Updated: 2016-05-26
Packaged: 2018-07-10 07:12:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6972367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apple_pi/pseuds/apple_pi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"He's so boring." Merry sighed. "When will he start doing stuff?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reflex

"He's so boring." Merry sighed. "When will he start doing stuff?"

"He can do stuff right now," said Frodo, smiling as he cuddled the infant to his chest. Six-week-old Pippin blinked green eyes up at him and gave a gummy yawn.

"Like what?" Merry squinted hopefully at the baby.

"Well..." Frodo shifted Pippin around until he held him beneath the armpits, the older hobbit's thumbs supporting the baby's heavy head. Pippin did not look pleased at this. Frodo dangled him so the baby's feet--already crowned by thin curls of chestnutty hair--touched his lap. Pippin lifted his feet one at a time, as though walking, and scrunched up his face.

"He's walking!" Merry laughed. Pippin let out an irritable squeak, and Frodo gathered him back into his arms. 

"So you see, he can do that," Frodo said triumphantly. "It's called a reflex--something babies do automatically."

"What else?" Merry asked, climbing up to sit cross-legged beside Frodo on the bed, both their backs against the headboard.

"Hmmm." Frodo put the baby into eight-year-old Merry's lap. Merry held him close, arms curved protectively around the little body. "Run your finger along his cheek, lightly," instructed Frodo.

Merry did as he was told, and Pippin turned his head quickly, seeking the source of the touch. Merry smiled with delight, and did it to the other side of Pippin's face, rewarded by a quick twist of the soft little head.

"Let him suck your finger for a moment," said Frodo. "If you don't he'll get upset that he can't find what is touching him." Sure enough, Pippin was looking dissatisfied.

Already well-acquainted with the babe's lung capacity, Merry was quick to obey, and he giggled at the feel of the little mouth on his fingertip. "Why does he do that?"

"It's called the rooting reflex," said Frodo, watching the two cousins fondly. "It is how they let you know they are hungry, or find the breast. But of course he is not hungry, as Aunt Teeny just fed him."

"He eats a lot," Merry said, watching Pippin's eyes drift shut as he suckled on Merry's finger.

"He has some catching up to do," Frodo said.

"He's still little," Merry agreed. Pippin was indeed an uncommonly tiny infant, having been born before-times. But he was no longer such a thin creature as he had been--he had filled out, and no longer looked like a starving sparrow. He did still have the pointed chin and nose he'd shown at birth, but Merry rather thought they would remain with the littlest Took for his whole life.

"Are you ready to give him up?" Frodo asked after a time. 

"Must I?"

"He needs his bassinet," Frodo said. "He's barely awake now." And it was true; the long lashes lay on Pippin's cheeks, and his mouth hardly worked on Merry's fingertip at all.

"All right." Merry sighed and tried to hand Pippin to Frodo.

As soon as the babe felt Merry's arms shift to leave him, his green eyes popped open and his face began to collapse. Before he could utter a sound, Merry cradled him again and gave him his finger; soothed, Pippin drifted off again.

They waited until the baby had settled into a doze and tried again. Again Pippin woke, and this time he let out a wail, until Merry appropriated him from Frodo, shooting an accusatory glare at his elder cousin. Safe in Merry's lap, Pippin sniffled and went immediately back to sleep.

Frodo looked at the two of them, exasperated and fond. "Well, it seems we've found another reflex," he said.

"The Merry reflex," Merry said, and snuggled Pippin closer to his skinny chest.

"So be it," said Frodo. "I guess you're his bassinet, for the moment at least."

"I guess so," murmured Merry, and relaxed back onto the pillows Frodo pushed behind him, eyes never leaving the sleeping child's face.


End file.
